


CATastrophe in Cardiff

by tardisjournal



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Cats, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Phobias, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 20:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisjournal/pseuds/tardisjournal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected encounter on a retrieval mission exposes a secret Jack would prefer to have kept hidden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	CATastrophe in Cardiff

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: S1.06--"Countrycide"; S2.01--"Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang"

  
The Team fanned out around the little rundown house, making sure that all possible exits were covered. Ianto took the right side, Gwen the left, Jack the back, while Tosh stayed behind at the Hub to coordinate them all.

That left Owen with the front door. Following protocol, he knocked politely, waited the prescribed number of moments, then gleefully kicked it in.

And fell back, gagging.

"Christ, it stinks!” he shouted, his voice blaring over their earpieces.

Ianto winced, his hand automatically going up to his ear as if it could protect him. “Can you be more specific, Owen?”

“I was fucking specific! What part of ‘it stinks' don't you understand?”

“Owen, you think everything animal, vegetable or mineral stinks, so that's not very helpful in determining what we're up against,” Ianto pointed out.

"Yes, Owen. Remember the grass?” Gwen chimed in.

"Animal, if I had to choose. Animal _shit_ , and lots of it. Is that specific enough for you?”

Ianto wrinkled his nose but ignored the medic's attempt to get a rise out of him. “Tosh, are you getting this?” he asked.

“Yes. Our scanners are picking up several life-forms of earth origin that are consistent with the, er, excrement that Owen's smelling. But there's too much interference from the alien technology that we're tracking to be more specific.”

"Earth life-forms can be dangerous too,” Jack reminded them. “Let's go in but proceed with caution, everyone. We're just here to retrieve the alien tech and get out.”

As Ianto slid open the window he felt a welcome surge of adrenaline that sent his heart racing and energy thrumming throughout his body. Suddenly, his eyes seemed to pick up more detail, his ears felt alert to the tiniest sound, and he knew now what he hadn't understood during his first field mission to the Beacons—that the threat of danger could be intoxicating. After a few more missions and some proper training, he'd come to be as hooked on the feeling as the rest of the Team.

But that was no reason to be reckless. He turned full-circle and scanned the area around him to ensure that no one was approaching, then climbed up and paused, crouched on the window sill, to scan the room below.

Inside it was dim, and Ianto couldn't make out much beyond some hunched silhouettes of furniture. He fumbled out his torch and was in the process of turning it on when he heard a blood-curdling scream over his earpiece.

“Arrgh! Get it off me! Get it OFF!”

It was Jack!

Ianto dropped to the floor, shining his light in every direction, on the lookout for anything amiss. "Jack! What's wrong?”

A strangled cry and a muffled thump were the only reply.

"Hold on, Jack! I'm coming!”

Ianto sped through the room, then stopped abruptly in the hallway. Owen had been right—the house stank to high heaven. He staggered backwards, coughing, and reached out to the wall for support.

After taking a few gasping breaths, he pushed himself upright again, fear for Jack's well-being urging him on.

"Code red,” Owen snapped, the sharpness of his tone making it clear that he was taking charge. “Man down. Everyone, report!”

“Hallway's clear,” Ianto said, breathing through his mouth as he shone his torch about. That wasn't literally true—it was littered with stacks of newspapers and piles of random objects that he had to pick his way through. But aside from the possibility of tripping and falling flat on his face, it seemed threat-free. “I'm headed to the back of the house now.”

“Kitchen’s clear.” Gwen reported.

"Gwen, you're nearing the source of the alien energy signature!” Tosh cut in. “Be careful.”

“Yeah, I can see something glowing in the cabinet under the sink,” Gwen said, her voice rising with excitement.

“Stay put, Gwen.” Owen commanded. “Keep an eye on it, but don't open the cabinet. Ianto, hold your position until I catch you up.”

“Alright, Owen,” Gwen replied, not sounding too happy about it.

Ianto definitely wasn't happy about it. “Jack's in danger!” He protested.

“Wait for me, then we'll go together. That's an order.”

Ianto swallowed hard but remained still. Every instinct he had was screaming to find Jack _now,_ but a calm, collected part of his mind realized that anything powerful enough to take down the Captain was probably not something he should be facing alone.

Owen rounded the corner and the two men preceded down the hall, side by side, weapons drawn. Two doors, one on either side, lay ahead of them. Owen nodded, then pushed open the first one with his foot, revealing a small bathroom containing a toilet, sink, shower stall, and several stacks of magazines that nearly reached the ceiling.

“Christ! A person could spend their whole life shitting in here and not read all these,” Owen observed, earning an eye-roll from Ianto.

“What was that?” Gwen asked. “Did you say ‘sitting’?”

“He said, the bathroom's clear,” Ianto said, shooting Owen a disgusted look. “We’re approaching the back room now.”

“Be careful,” Tosh interjected, her voice edged with worry.

Owen and Ianto took up positions on either side of the closed door, listening intently. Ianto thought he heard a most un-Captain-like whimpering from the other side.

“Did you hear that?” Ianto whispered.

“Yeah.” Owen replied, tone grim. “On three. One. Two. _Three_!”

Ianto needed no further encouragement to throw the door wide open and rush in. Owen covered him from behind.

The stench emanating from the bedroom was far more powerful than it had been anywhere else. Ianto doubled over, gasping and choking—and caught sight of Jack, lying on the floor. His eyes widened when he realized that Jack was covered with writhing, moving shapes.

Familiar shapes.

"Bloody hell,” Owen swore through the hand that had come up to cover his mouth and nose. “Are those... cats?”

Jack groaned, and Ianto dropped to his knees beside him, holding his breath as he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. Half a dozen house cats clambered over the supine captain, and he could see several more out of the corner of his eye--peering at him from a bed, from the top of a cluttered bookcase, and lurking in the room's shadows.

“Jack?” Ianto plucked a purring calico off the man's chest, then shooed a skinny orange tabby away from where it had been licking the Captain's cheek. “Jack, can you hear me?”

His eyes scanned for any sign of blood, or injury, but none was visible. “Jack! Wake up!”

The Captain's eyes fluttered open and he peered up at Ianto, dazed.

“What happened?” he croaked.

Relief flooded Ianto. “We're not sure. It sounded like you were attacked!”

Owen had been making a circuit of the room. “All clear,” he said. “Whoever or whatever the attacker was, it's gone.”

“What's going on?” called Gwen.

“We found Jack. He’s conscious. Stay where you are and keep an eye on that device,” Owen ordered.

Jack stirred and made to rise, but Ianto pressed him back down with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s just let Owen have a look first, yeah?” he suggested, brushing the fringe out of Jack’s eyes with his other hand.

Owen crouched beside Jack and gave him the once over, then took his pulse.

"Well?” Ianto inquired.

“If I didn't know better, I'd say he fainted,” Owen concluded.

"Fainted?” Ianto echoed. “Really?” He placed a soothing hand on Jack's forehead.

“Tosh?" Owen barked. "Any chance you overlooked anything dangerous in this room that could cause unconsciousness? Poisonous gas, toxic pollen, anything like that?”

Ianto's eyebrows shot up. He removed a perfectly-folded handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his nose, as if he had just realizing that it was running.

“Nothing that's in any of our databases,” Tosh confirmed. “Aside from a rather high count of certain allergens, the air is normal.”

Ianto returned the handkerchief to his pocket and, after glancing at Owen for approval, helped Jack into a sitting position. Jack blinked several times, then his eyes widened when he saw that a skinny brown tabby had wedged itself between his splayed knees and a sleek black cat was sitting on his left boot.

His eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted again.

“I think we've found the culprit.” Owen said, a smile quirking about his lips. “Make that... culprits.”

A fluffy black and white cat opened its mouth and gave a loud “meow” that sounded for all the world like agreement, then proceeded to climb up Ianto’s thighs.

Ianto ignored it and patted Jack’s cheek, his concern almost making him forget what the claws must be doing to his worsted-wool suit. Almost.

“Come on Jack, it’s all right. We’ve got you. Come on back.”

\---- ---- ---- ----

Jack came to again as they were moving him to the SUV. With some assistance from Ianto, he was able to walk the rest of the way himself.

The ride home was unusually quiet. Jack sat sullenly staring out the back window, with Ianto next to him. Owen drove while Gwen rode shotgun, and any attempt on either of their parts to say anything, anything at all, was met a fierce glare in the mirror and a firm shake of the head “no” from Ianto.

Back at the Hub, Owen took blood and ran a few tests, then released Jack with instructions that he should “take it easy for a while,” which Jack apparently took to mean, “hole up in my office with Ianto's strongest double espresso and a plate of Hob Nobs”, for that's what he did.

The Team wrapped up the case with relative ease.

The homeowner and possessor of the alien device turned out to be a little old lady who claimed to have found it in her cluttered garden one morning after a ferocious storm.

Despite Owen's snarky, “How did she even know it was there?” there was no reason not to believe her story. She had been delighted to accept the “reward money” for finding the “modern art sculpture” that had been stolen from the National Museum.

“And the thieves just happened to dump it in my garden when they realized they were being chased? Oh, how very exciting!” she’d exclaimed over the phone, speaking so loudly that Ianto had to hold it an arm’s length from his ear lest he be deafened.

“She'll be telling that story for years,” he noted with a wry smile as he signed the check and had it sent by messenger to her house, along with a forged note of gratitude from the museum's director.

Gwen located the woman's grandchildren, who agreed to keep a closer eye on their grandmother in the future and to relocate some of the cats before health officials got involved.

Tosh ran several tests on the item they’d retrieved, which looked rather like a futuristic frappe maker but with way too many knobs and switches, then took it apart and gave it to Ianto to store in the “Needs Further Research” section of the Archives.

 _'Well, that was a bit anti-climactic',_ Ianto thought as he pushed the drawer shut. Then his mind brought up a detailed image of Jack lying unconscious on the floor, and he decided that “anti-climactic” was just fine with him.

Owen went to Jack's office to give his report and found Ianto already there, hovering by Jack's elbow. The medic rattled his papers and cleared his throat, but Ianto merely glowered at him, and Jack said nothing.

"Right then,” said Owen. “I contacted our new friend's regular doctor and he's going to look her over as soon as he can. I'm not sure the old bird can take care of herself anymore, much less all those bleedin’ cats. That's probably why they swarmed Jack when he came in the window—they were hoping he'd feed them.”

“Or they were trying to eat me,” Jack said darkly.

Owen chuckled. “As for you, Captain, everything seems normal. Well, of course, except for the fact that you are in ridiculously good shape for your age, can't die... and appear to have the worst case of Ailurophobia I've ever seen,” Owen concluded with a grin.

 _'Ailurophobia--fear of cats_ ,'  Ianto's encyclopedic brain supplied. It's what he'd suspected.

“You don't have to sound so smug about it,” Jack said, slumping in his chair.

“Of course, it's the _only_ case of Ailurphobia I've ever seen,” Owen continued. “I'd have to check the literature, but this just might be one for the record books. Maybe I'll write a paper. Get famous.”

“Maybe you won't,” Jack said, a warning creeping into his tone.

Which Owen ignored. “You're right, that's no way to get famous. It'd be much more lucrative if I just went to the tabloids with my story. 'Grown man, ex-military, faints dead away at the sight of pussycats.’”

“There is no story. There never will be any story. Are we clear on that?”

“Awww, you're no fun,” Owen said.

“O- _wen_ ” Jack warned, his tone now promising imminent bodily harm if the subject matter wasn't dropped.

“All right, fine,” Owen huffed. “Just answer me one thing. Why cats? Of all the bloody things in the universe to be afraid of, why cats? Is it a _thing_ where you came from? Did you have giant cats that ate people or something?”

“Of course not! Don't be ridiculous.”

“Then why?”

“They're just creepy, that's why! They're secretive and sneaky. You never know what they're thinking.” Jack frowned. “And they're so fastidious. They get all bent out of shape if a hair's out of place, and that's not normal! Plus, they look innocent and harmless, but it’s just a ruse. I know from experience that they’ll turn on you at the drop of a hat!”

“You realize that you just described Ianto to a “T”? But you like him.”

"I'm standing right here,” Ianto reminded them. Jack glared.

Owen turned to Ianto with a smirk. “Did you have any idea Jack felt this way?”

“About me? I had an inkling,” Ianto replied, laying a hand affectionately on Jack's shoulder.

“No, that he was deathly afraid of cats!”

“I am not deathly afraid of cats,” Jack protested. “I just prefer to keep a cautious distance. Discretion as the better part of valor? Ever hear that one, Owen?”

Owen snorted. “Jack, discretion isn't part of your M.O. I didn't even know the word was in your vocabulary, frankly.”

Jack stood. “Enough. Finish your report, Owen, but leave me out of it. Then work with Tosh on determining what kind of alien might have used that device. There's got to be biochemical traces in her scans you can analyze. I don't want to hear from you again until you have something.”

“Sure boss. Whatever you say,” Owen replied, grinning.

Ianto watched Owen leave, as Jack slumped back down in his chair. “He's never going to let this go, you know that, Sir?" We can expect feline jokes, random cat pictures, and possibly the odd stray kitten to pop up when we least expect it for the foreseeable future.”

“That sounds about right,” Jack sighed. “I'm seriously considering Retcon.”

“You do realize you'd have to Retcon all of us, Sir? Lest we inadvertently mention the case or anything associated with it?” Ianto said.

“So?”

"Bit unethical, don't you think? Mass Retconning of innocent team members who were just doing their jobs? Generally we reserve that treatment for state secrets, or information too traumatic to be remembered, Sir.”

“It'll be traumatic for _me_ if you lot remember it. Fine, I'll hold off. But if I hear one cat quip, just one...”

“Understood, Sir.” Ianto put his hands on the muscles between Jack's shoulders and neck and started to massage them. “Though if it comes to that, I hope you'll consider making an exception for me.”

Jack's shoulders started to relax under Ianto's ministrations. “And why should I do that?”

“I think I can be more useful to you if I'm aware of your secret, Sir. I can be your advance man, clear rooms of hostile cats before we enter, that kind of thing.”

Jack tilted his head back to see if Ianto was making fun of him, but the younger man's face was as implacable as ever.

"You'd do that?”

“I'd consider it an honor, Sir. Besides, I understand. I'm not overly fond of spiders, myself. Fortunately we don't encounter too many in Cardiff so it's not really an issue.”

“You make a compelling argument, Mr. Jones. And seeing as how you are so _secretive,_ I think I will take a chance and trust you with this one.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Ianto leaned closer to Jack's ear. “But you forgot 'fastidious.’”

Jack reached back, grasped Ianto's tie, and pulled the younger man's head in for a bruising kiss.

“Let's see what we can do about that,” he murmured against Ianto’s lips once he’d pulled back, twining his fingers through Ianto’s hair and mussing it up.

"I… I see you're feeling better, Sir,” Ianto said, suddenly a bit breathless.

“Much,” said Jack. The fingers of his other hand scrabbled over Ianto’s tie, attempting to unknot it.

“Allow me,” said Ianto, pushing Jack’s hand away and removing the tie with a couple of deft strokes. He folded it neatly, placed it on the desk, then glanced down at Jack with a coy smile.

"Remember, this ‘innocent and harmless’ thing is just a ruse, Sir.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Well, in that case, Sir, I'm sure my equally fastidious dry-cleaner could use the work.”

Ianto spun Jack's chair around and straddled his lap, and all thoughts of cats were forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> In lieu of a sequel (or prequel?) here's a bonus picture showing Jack's (failed?) attempts at cat desensitization therapy. I found it on the interwebz so it must be true. [Heavy Lifting](http://i224.photobucket.com/albums/dd279/piratearick/JackHarknesscatz.jpg)
> 
> Written for the prompt "Jack/Ianto--Ailurophobia (fear of cats)".


End file.
